


Comfort

by Mithlomi



Series: At the End of it All... [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Moar Fluff, What Did You Expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1422991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithlomi/pseuds/Mithlomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She will be well..." The Queen assures him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> More pointless RP-inspired fluff. You should tell me to stop but alas I won't...

The candlelight flickers, shadows falling across her pale face. Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, lips parted and her auburn hair lies across in the plush pillows in soft curls. To the rest of the world, she is sleeping soundly…

He, of course, knows better than anyone that it is more than that.

He brushes his thumb gently over the back of her hand. It is cold to his touch and he hates that. She is always warm, soft to his touch and he knows every inch of her…

She should not be this cold, this pale… 

The day had been glorious. A beautiful blue sky with a soft breeze that stirred her hair as she laughed with the Queen. He did not know they had become so close but he was pleased; secretly, of course, he thought both the Queen and Constance benefited from such a friendship and it meant he was separated from her even less when his duty meant he was guard for them both. 

There was no pomp and circumstance today; the King and Queen had invited a few close members of the court to accompany them on a ride. Constance acted as both maid and companion to the Queen, an unofficial role really, but one that few questioned. The King seemed to like her, so there was little argument…

They had not gone far, hadn’t even left the palace gardens, and in hindsight, he was grateful for that. It was hard to tell what had happened exactly, only that Constance’s horse had spooked, reared back and sent her crashing to the ground with a cry.

She did not move.

He had cried out her name, urging his own horse forward and almost falling himself to be at her side. The Queen too was out of her saddle as fast as her aides would allow her. He remembered lifting her head gently, her body limp, and pulling away his gloved hand only to find his fingers covered in blood.

Panic filled him, his heart racing as he whispered her name. It was the Queen who drew him out of his daze. “We must get her inside…” He did not need telling twice. Scooping her into his arms with little effort, he tore past the others and back into the palace, the Queen not far behind.

He had not left her side since. The physician had come and gone, saying there was little he could do, a fact that did not sit will with the young Gascon who’s grief turned to anger rather quickly. If no one could help her, if he couldn’t help her than what good was he?

The man did seem to think that she would be well, her injuries nothing more than external. But a blow to the head was never without it’s dangers and all they could do was wait for her body to recover.

He did not like waiting.

“She will be well…”

It is the soft voice of the Queen, and it almost makes him jump; he has been sat in silence for a while. He moves to stand, to bow but she stops him with a wave of her hand. “There is no need.” She moves further into the room, studying Constance’s pale face herself. They are not far from the Queen’s chambers and she has changed from her riding gear to a more simple gown. She occupies the chair on the other side of the bed and he watches her gaze drift over to where Constance’s hand rests in his. A smile tugs at her lips.

”She will be well,” she repeats, searching to meet his eyes. He does not try to hide his anxiety but she smiles still. “She will not allow herself to be beaten by being thrown from her horse; she is much too stubborn for that. She simply won’t allow it.” The Queen chuckles, light and bright and he cannot help but allow his lips to curve upwards slightly, his grip on her hand tightening. He knows that to be true. If… _when_ she awakes, she’ll groan with embarrassment. He can almost hear her voice.

 _“I made a fool of myself. In front of the court. In front of the King. Oh, God, in front of_ Aramis. _I will never hear the end of it…”_

That does make him laugh, and he leans forward, brushing a lock of hair away from her face before he turns to the Queen once more. She watches them with a soft gaze.

“You love her very much.” It is not a question, simply truth that she offers and he nods, finding his voice after hours of silence.

”With all my heart.” It’s husky, raw with emotion. 

The Queen nods. “I am glad. She deserves it…”

There’s a soft groan and he snaps back to her, leaping from his seat to rest his hand against her cheek softly. 

”Constance?”

She stirs slowly, eyes fluttering as even the dim light from the candle startles her for a moment. It takes her a while to make out his features, his furrowed brow and wide eyes. Her lips quirk into a soft smile and her voice is soft, barely audible as she speaks.

”Aramis is not allowed to say a word…”

He laughs breathlessly in relief, resting his forehead lightly to hers. He does not hear the door close as the Queen slips silently from the room.


End file.
